Prologue of a Prelude Or Not?
by weapon13WhiteFang
Summary: This can be blamed on the awesome cedricsowner and one of their awesome stories for this couple. It's a simple one-shot prologue kinda thing... Yeah I sound so professional on this right? Just R&R Plz! Thanks!


**Authoress Note: **I do not own Human Target. At All. If I did, they'd still be playing the damn show and I'd have changed up some things here and there ^^ I do, however, own any new characters that pop up in my stories... And my imagination when it lets me rule it.

**Extra Note: **cedricsowner... You are evil. I again went back and reread it all your stories I could find and then this little number jumped up. You are eeevvill! You are using plot bunnies to attack my little mind! I'm to blonde for this! Oiiiyy xD

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><p>Chance didn't know what was going on. Something was wrong, that much was certain. But what exactly was wrong? Well he couldn't put his finger on it. He kept flipping through events and trying to pin-point what exactly was happening... But nothing clicked.<p>

Guerrero and Ilsa weren't talking to each other. Sure it wasn't like they sat around and chat, but they would be professional (and sometimes childish) with each other... But they've never been this way. Ilsa wouldn't look at Guerrero and if she had to say something to him it was in a very monotone voice. Guerrero would answer back like he normally would and that would be it.

If Ilsa was sitting and talking with Ames in the kitchen, or comfortably working in the living-room to get a change of scenery from her office, and Guerrero came in... She'd become very quiet or pick up her stuff and silently walk back to her office and shut the door and wouldn't come out unless they had to talk with a client or when she wanted a cup of tea or to go home.

To Chance it was more apparent that Ilsa was the one trying to avoid and ignore Guerrero, while he acted the same way he always did. He wasn't acting like anything was wrong or even coming off as pissed or annoyed at her. He was just being... Well being Guerrero. Like always.

So what was going on, then? Chance sat in the kitchen with Ames, who was typing away at her new laptop and answering text messages occasionally, as he watched Ilsa type away at her computer and talk on the phone occasionally, before glancing over at Guerrero who was sitting at the opposite end of the table with Layla.

It was kind of good to see her again. Freelancing was working out slowly for her. Guerrero had somewhat taken her under his wing to help her out, and she was actually a fast learner when not being harshly pushed into something like last time they worked together during the trouble with Baptiste.

"-hance?" Chance was pulled from his thoughts as he blinked and tilted his head up at Ilsa, who was standing in-front of him with a small smile and raised brow. He gave a sheepish smile to show he hadn't heard what she said and she sighed and shook her head before handing him a letter she had in her hand that he hadn't noticed. "This came in the mail for you... I opened it to check for anything that could be hazardous to your health.. I apologize if that upsets you."

Chance blinked and looked at the open letter. "Ilsa you shouldn't have done that. What if something had been in it? You could have gotten yourself sick or worse," Chance frowned as Ilsa shrugged in a very Guerrero like way that actually startled him. Ilsa had been hanging around them for three years now.. He shouldn't be surprised that they were rubbing off on her... But still...

"So you want me to bypass the theft security system of the CIA? FBI was one thing but CIA..." Layla exclaimed, trailing off at the end as everyone turned to look at her and Guerrero... Everyone but Ilsa, who took her cup of tea and walked away, not even sparring them a glance or even showing distaste for the illegal activity they were going to commit.

Chance watched her walk away and close herself in her office and frowned, not noticing that a pair of steely blue eyes had also followed her back to her office.

**-0-**

She wasn't mad at him. She knew everyone must think she was, but she wasn't. She was just... Unsure. Unsure how to approach what had happened. Unable to look at him without a blush possibly spreading across her cheeks or becoming slightly damp. No... No she wasn't mad. She was embarrassed at herself. Embarrassed and somewhat ashamed.

Why had she bought that aftershave? She use to buy some for Marshall and she still had a bottle of his; aramis. It was an older kind of aftershave but it had suited his musk and breeding. She loved to smell it on him when they'd dance or make love. When he had first died, she had slept with the bottle under her pillow after spraying a little on his side and would curl up to sleep with it.

But that had been three years ago. And she had never had the desire to buy aftershave again... But when she had been shopping and had come across a bottle of _his _smell... She hadn't hesitated. Not even thinking, she had bought it and went home and... And... And she could feel her face flushing at the memory as she swallowed a large gulp of her tea and tried to calm her loudly beating heart.

Groaning softly, Ilsa rubbed at her temples and sighed. She felt horrible for this... She was... She was betraying Chance, wasn't she? He had shown nothing but kindness and patience as they both tried to find what they wanted to be and where they wanted to go with this. With them... Only for her to go and do something like _that_!

But what made her feel even more horrible was that she wasn't even to ashamed... And that she almost was tempted to do it again. It had felt good... It had made her body tingle and feel in ways she hadn't felt in a long time and... And she really needed to stop this train of thought right now. She needed to get out of here. She was starting to feel suffocated now, and she just wanted some fresh air.

Sitting up, Ilsa finished her cup of tea and gathered her purse and shut down her computer, before walking out her office and locking it (even if locking it against these men was pointless. It was more a habit than anything). She took her cup to the sink and looked to Winston as he finished reading the paper. "Mr. Winston? I'm afraid I'm not feeling to well. You'll be able to handle anything if it comes up, yes?"

Winston blinked and looked slightly concerned as he nodded. "Uh, yeah, Ilsa. I'm sure I can handle it just fine.. Are you alright? You look a little flushed?" Ilsa wanted to blanch. Oh no! She was showing... They could see... Oh no no no! Ilsa tried to compose herself as she nodded. "I'm alright, Mr. Winston, I just feel a tad warm and sick to my stomach. I'll be making a quick run to the store for some aspirin before I go home to rest. But do call me if I am needed and I'll be over as soon as I can."

Winston nodded and Ilsa quickly walked away, her high heels clicking as she made towards the door as fast as possible, tripping slightly on one of the new rugs she had installed. She mumbled a few curse before hitting the down button, almost crying out as she tried to step into the elevator and ran straight into the last person she wanted to!

"Hey, boss?" Guerrero said questionably, as he barely missed her running head long into him as she tried to slip past him into the elevator. Ilsa gave her best nod of hello and mumbled an apology before hitting the door close button and looking down as the doors closed. Oh very mature, Ilsa! Act like a little school girl who almost got caught with her hand in a cookie jar, why don't you? Scowling and groaning in frustration, Ilsa paged for her driver before she flee'd to her car as he pulled up.

**-0-**

"Hey? Where's Ilsa?" Chance asked as he looked over at her office after having showered and come back downstairs as Guerrero was packing up his computer. "She just left, dude," Guerrero answered, nodding to Winston. "Said she wasn't feeling good. Gonna take off, dude. You know how to get a hold of me." Chance didn't ask or question him about his sudden choice to leave. It wasn't uncommon for him to do so.

Throwing his bag over his shoulder, he walked to the elevator and stepped in before hitting the down button and flipping open his phone to check on three new texted images sent to him, before stuffing the phone into his pocket and making for his car.

He had a reason for leaving early. Normally he would hang around and bug Winston. Hell he could have stayed to make sure Layla had understood everything he had been teaching her. But at the moment he had a more pressing matter to deal with; Ilsa. He didn't like being confused or left to ponder when someone was avoiding him. Now normally people avoiding him was common; no one wanted to cross his path if they could help it. But this was different. This was Ilsa avoiding him for no reason. She'd been doing this for a week now and he wanted answers.

Shifting the car into into drive, Guerrero made for a a high class apartment complex in western L.A.

**-0-**

Running water? As soon as she opens the door she hears running water? And it was coming from her bathroom?

Ilsa furrowed her brow, her guard going up. Ever since the Lopez incident, Ilsa had become more cautious of thing out of place around her. And running water in her suppose to be empty apartment was out of place.

Carefully setting her purse down on her kitchen table after walking in, Ilsa walked to the bathroom and peeked into the cracked door, her eyes widening as she saw a familiar outline taking a shower and a familiar pair of glasses on the sink counter. She bit her lip and stepped back from the door. What was _he_ doing here?

'_Most likely he's come to question why you've been acting so bloody weird, love,' _a small voice chimed in as she grumbled. OK so she had been avoiding him for good cause, but that didn't give him the right to break into her apartment! How did he even get her code? Wait... This was Guerrero. If he wanted her code, he would get it.

Ilsa glared at the door and was no longer flustered or surprise, but more annoyed and feeling violated. Oh he was not getting away with this! No matter how she may be acting towards him, he had no right to violate her space and come in to her apartment without being invited.

So silently, Ilsa slid her hand through the door and grabbed his glasses.

**-0-**

Taking a shower in her apartment hadn't been on his list. He'd planned to come over and wait for her while enjoying some of her food left in her fridge... But he'd gotten dirty while deciding he needed to clean the trunk of his new car. He wasn't going to let the blood stain the trunk, and he figured he had enough time to get it out of the way before she got back.

But he had gotten dirty, and she had a working, high pressured, shower that he felt he had a right to use. So he'd sat his bag behind a plant near her door, before pulling out a pair of clothes to change into and began helping himself to checking out her shower and her belonging. He'd found what one would normally find in a female's bathroom; razors, perfumes, fine soaps and shampoos... And a bottle of his favorite aftershave?

OK that was not on the list of things one should find in a single woman's bathroom. Raising a brow, he looked the bottle over and found that it had been opened but seemingly unused. That was unusual. Making a mental note to personally question her on it, Guerrero slid off his glasses and stepped into the shower to clean the coated blood off his arms and face.

He took his time, feeling he had enough time to go at his own pace, before he finished up. He turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, reaching for his glasses.

His glasses were gone.

**And the rest can be read in cedricowner's profile. Look for the story "prelude or not", which is where I got the idea from :)**


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